Spin
by thegirllikeme
Summary: In the depths of Hogwarts there is a room that only opens on Friday the Thirteenth that holds a single bewitched bottle. When students are trapped within they find the only way to escape is to SPIN.
1. Ready

**Disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter, nor do I claim to. It belongs to JK Rowling.**

**A/N: This was written Pre-DH so, of course, Lily and Severus are not best friends in this. And, yes, I am quite aware that some of the characters had already graduated from Hogwarts by the time this story takes place, but in order for this story to work, I _had_ to put it that way. I hope you don't mind that bit of AU. If you don't, please enjoy. Remember to leave a review, but no spam and no flaming. Thanks.**

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Over the skies of the dark and silent castle, wispy clouds clung to the surface of the moon, suffocating out the silver shine so that the world, bereft of any stars, held little to no light. The woods beneath the sky seemed even eerier than was common for the Forbidden Forest. It was a mere line of black with the occasional silhouette of a trunk or a ripple of a fluttering leaf. The lake was frozen, reflecting the dark of the sky, without so much as a single quiver of water to break its deathlike calm. There was a hoot of an owl as it flew quickly back to the owlery as though to hide from some unseen pursuer. The castle was utterly overcast in shadows, not a single window lit in a rectangle of yellow. There was not one particle of light, unless it was the swinging lantern of the stalking caretaker as he shuffled, wheezing through the halls and searching with menacing eyes for any mischief-maker. On the whole, it seemed that the magical world of Hogwarts was holding its breath in anticipation on the bewitched night of Friday, the Thirteenth.

But others were less mindful of today's date, caring not for superstition no matter if certain ones had merit. Some boys dared to defy the rules, to creep out of their dorms in the sole search for trouble. Some boys felt nothing for consequences or haunted days or even the stalking of a caretaker. Some boys were so gumptious—or stupid, I'll let you be the judge—to wander out into the corridors of Hogwarts, a place of strange and, sometimes, dangerous magic, on a night as haunted as this. Boys, as you would learn if you listened carefully to their whispered conversation, who were named Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs.

A single moonbeam wormed its way from between the fold in a cloud and shone through a window, splashing momentarily on the face of the one referred to as Moony. The silver light illuminated his features as they once again contorted into displeasure. "I don't suppose telling you this is completely stupid would do any good?"

The one called Prongs, who was at the head of the group with his lit wand held high to brighten their path, locked his jaw in annoyance. It was not the first time that Moony had tried to persuade them to turn back. But they were all men on a mission, and they would not quit.

"Not likely," Prongs said dryly, not halting or hesitating for a single moment.

Moony was the strict and upright or, perhaps, just rational one of the group. His reluctance and distaste for anything that might lead to trouble was a thing that easily irritated the other boys. However, eventually Moony always gave in and went along willingly. Besides, his bellyaching, despite how frustrating it was, had kept them out of detention on more than one occasion.

Prongs continued speaking, his words giving the conclusion that he was either trying to persuade Moony into his actions or trying to justify himself. Likely the earlier, by the easy, nonchalant tone to his voice. That and it was rare for Prongs to have an attack of conscience. "Besides, we all know that git had it coming." If one could peer into his mind at that moment, they would see a flashed image of a pale blonde boy with cold, gray eyes, his pointed nose wrinkling in conceited disgust. It was only a flashed memory, for who would want the sour face of Lucius Malfoy stuck in their head.

Moony didn't seem to be in agreement to something in Prongs' statement, for he folded his arms over his chest. His face read like the page of a book exactly what he wanted to say. They all most certainly did _not_ know that Malfoy had had it coming. However, Moony chose his words more carefully than that. He did not want to be among the people being jinxed this night.

"As I recall," Moony spoke slowly, choosing his words with care so that perhaps they might penetrate his friends' steel resolve. "You were the one who challenged him."

Prongs balked only for a second, before brushing the words away. "A small matter."

Moony suddenly got a confused look on his face and he rubbed a hand over his scraggly hair as though trying to recall something of grand importance. As much as he tried, he kept hitting a blank wall of forgetfulness, and at last, he conceded to incomprehension and dropped his hand back to his side. "What were you two arguing about anyways?"

Prongs frowned for a moment, for his mind bounded into the same black depths as Moony. After only a moment, his frown disappeared and his easy, adventuresome expression was back on his face, along with too much confidence for what his next words implied. "I'm not sure either."

Moony scowled. In his opinion, the situation was getting all more insane by the second. "Did you two even fight at all? Or was just looking at each other enough?"

Prongs gave an uncaring shrug, not even faltering this time. "What does it matter? We met and a duel came out of it."

Moony's disapproving gaze deepened and he opened his mouth as though to point out exactly how ridiculous it was to have a wizard's duel over absolutely nothing, but Padfoot, the dark-haired, handsome boy who strode beside Prongs, stopped him before he could.

"Give it a rest, Moony." Padfoot turned around and walked backwards so he could focus on Moony's face. The next statement he said with the typical tone in which boys taunted their friends; half unintentionally and ignorantly cruel, but mainly unmeant and just-for-fun. "It's not like it's the full moon or anything."

Moony pursed his lips, not with anger or agony, but rather with apathy. The careless words of his friends were simply that; careless. Moony was far too accustomed to his friends' unsensetive remarks to have any form of misgiving. However, the words did set with him a grim resolution to say no more. He gave into the groups' activities, just as he always did. After all, it is always said that if you cannot beat them, join them.

Moony now slipped back to walk beside the fourth and final member of their dynamic quartet. Wormtail was the one who never seemed to quite fit into the masterful puzzle of the group. He was awkward in confidence, round in appearance, and as fidgety as his nickname would suggest. He was the first to go along, ever eager for a good show, but the first to run when trouble arrived. For a Gryffindor, he was hardly brave. Even now his hand that held a piece of parchment jerked in apprehension whenever a drawn figure stretched even an inch closer to the other four moving figures.

Moony leaned closer, viewing the parchment with a critical, yet interested, eye. Beside a pacing figure was the name Argus Filch written in minuscule writing.

Ah, the Marauder's Map. It was the one thing which had combined Prongs' adventurousness, Padfoot's mischievousness, Moony's intelligence, and Wormtail's…well, let's leave Wormtail out of the equation. It was a wondrous creation, a fantastic and remarkably useful thing. The most detailed map of Hogwarts that gave proof that the Marauders knew the place nearly as well as the Founders.

The responsibility for caring for the precious map, hiding it from unwanted eyes and keeping an eye on it in case Filch or any wandering professor neared, fell to Womtail. It was a thankless job, one that an absentminded monkey could have pulled off, but it was the price Wormtail paid to call himself a Marauder; his share of the duty if he wanted to be a part of the fun.

As they moved toward the room designated for Lucius' and Prongs' meeting, Wormtail gave the map a tap with his wand and whispered "Mischief managed." With those words, the map wrote itself blank, turning into nothing more than a spare bit of parchment. He pocketed the map, pushing it deep into the pocket of his robes beside a crumpled piece of yesterday's uncompleted homework and several half-melted Bertie Bott's Every-Flavored Beans.

They entered the room cautiously, Prongs peeking his head through the door and holding his wand at ready as though he believed Lucius would be hiding behind the door with a jinx prepared. However, Lucius lingered by the far wall of the room, his stature high and rigid; Lucius in his normal amount of arrogance. Seeing no reason for fear, Prongs breezed confidently into the room, striding like one going to an enjoyable party and not to a battle that could only end in pain. The rest of the Marauders were easing in after him, Padfoot with an identical carelessness in his step.

"Surprised you showed up, Malfoy," Prongs mocked as he paused fifty paces from Lucius, crossing his arms over his chest. "Thought you would run like a cowa—" His words faltered and his tongue tripped as, for the first time, he noticed that Lucius was not alone. A dark, familiar figure stood menacingly at Lucius' side.

"What are you doing here, Snivellus?" said Prongs, as he tried not to choke on his own disgust.

Even in the dark, the boy's sneer could be made out, his lips curling in equal enmity. It was the only reply the nemesis was willing to give.

It was Lucius who did the answering. "He's my second."

"Really?" There was no surprise in Prongs' voice, but rather deep amusement. After all, it was not every day that a prejudice Gryffindor got the chance to duel not one, but two Slytherins. Especially if one of them was the 'odious' Severus Snape. It was too good of an opportunity and Prongs couldn't help but say, tauntingly, to Severus, "Bet you jumped at the chance to duel me."

Severus once again said nothing, his expression unreadable, but if one could peer into his mind, they would find him musing over the irony of Prongs' statement. For he had not _jumped_; he'd _been jumped_. I do believe Lucius exact words were 'be my second against Potter or I'll jinx you'.

"What about them?" Padfoot demanded, his own displeasure in his voice as he gestured toward the far wall.

Three feminine figures sat elegantly on a bench along the wall, but even if they were hardly a bit more than silhouettes, Padfoot could recognize them. It took the other Marauders a bit longer to figure out the identity. But as soon as the first half-conceited, half sing-song voice broke forth, they comprehended perfectly.

"What's the matter, _cousin_?" Bellatrix Black made sure to emphasize the word cousin, knowing all too well how much Padfoot hated to be reminded of his relation to any Slytherin. The glare that Padfoot sent her was so priceless that Bellatrix's pretty lips curled up into a satisfied smile.

"Not happy to see us?" Narcissa finished for her sister, flinging her hair over her shoulder. A ray of light from a wand reflected off her fine, vivid hair as it flipped through the air, making it gleam like sparkling gold.

The third girl, however, remained silent, looking at her nails as though contemplating if her fingernails were perfectly even was the most fascinating thing in the room. In truth, Andromeda had never cared for the way Bellatrix and Narcissa tormented their cousin. But what could she do? They were her sisters, after all.

Lucius looked over his shoulder at the three girls and his face contorted into evidence that Padfoot and Lucius did have something in common. They both were immensely furious that the girls had shown up.

"They followed," was the only explanation he offered, though he didn't waste time glaring at the Narcissa and Bellatrix so it was made perfectly clear that he was not happy with them.

Narcissa gave him an innocent bat of the eyelashes, that was not so much flirtatious as it was mocking. "We just thought it would be interesting to see Potter murdered."

"Or you," Bellatrix added, her smug smile turning devilish. "Either way works for us."

There was not a boy in earshot distance who didn't feel angry at the statement, unless it was Moony who pretended he hadn't heard, Peter who chose that moment to look at a crack in the floor and begin to silently plead that the boys did not add the murder of the Black sisters to the list of possible things they could get into trouble for, or Severus for who was unmoved by the girls' poor attempt at insults. The others sent hot glares at the girls, clutching wands and contemplating revenge.

In return, Narcissa and Bellatrix gave them bored looks, not believing for a moment that they would do anything more than scowl. It was the beauty about being a girl; the chances of being jinxed were considerably less. After all, no boy thought twice about hexing other males.

Padfoot, Prongs, and Lucius eventually wrestled down their urges and decided mutually to do the one thing that had any chance of irking the girls; they decided to ignore them. Besides, Prongs was positively fed-up with distractions. They'd come there to duel and that was precisely what he wanted to do.

"Let's get on with it," Prongs pressed impatiently, drawing the last of Lucius's attention away from Narcissa and back to the purpose of their meeting. Upon being reminded of their approaching duel, glee temporarily broke through Lucius's perfectly collected features, twisting his lips into a smirk of anticipation before he quickly gathered his poise and gave a princely sniff as though he was dealing with an unfavorable peasant. "Alright."

Lucius reached into his pocket to draw his wand, just as Prongs whispered the correct word to end the Lumos Charm. His wand was now dormant, waiting to be awakened with a well-chosen spell. The others quickly shuffled out of the way and the Slytherin girls moved to the right of the room, so they were not in danger of a wayward spell. Moony and Wormtail sat on a bench towards the left, a safe distance away but still in close enough to have a good view of the surroundings.

Wormtail, remembering his job as watchman, even with such exciting activities going about, fished the Marauder's Map out of his pocket. He flicked a Every-Flavored Bean off of the map, breathing a sigh of relief when there was no smudge where it had stuck, and then pulled the Map close to a fold in his robes so it was invisible to all eyes but his own. He glanced absently at Filch's position, before looking quickly back to the scene, wide eyes hungrily taking in every detail.

Both fighter's were ready for war. Lucius and Prongs took a warrior's stance and raised their wands.

"Sirius," Prongs addressed Padfoot, who stood nearest the opponents, prepared to fulfill his part as Prongs' second if the time came. "Give us a count."

The crackling excitement in the room must have been contagious, because a wild grin was on Padfoot's face as he began the countdown; three seconds until the explosion.

"One…"

Prongs shifted in eagerness, blissful adrenaline bursting through his veins.

"Two…"

That wicked grin was back on Lucius's face, twisting his lips deviously.

"Three!"

_Bang!_

But the noise came not from the sound of blasting jinxes, for not a single flash of magic was seen. The room froze as the door slammed open with such force that it collided into the wall before ricocheting back into place, with only a long enough space between for three figures to come into the room; one hesitant, and another pair boldly charging in. Stunned, the group could only stare as the girls slid to a stop twenty paces from Lucius and Prongs, held their wands up high, and cried, "_Expelliarmus_!"

The wands were jerked from the battlers' hands and flew to the girls' feet. For a moment, no one did anything, but finally, as he recognized the girls, Prongs reached a hand upward to mess up his hair and plastered a charming smile onto his face.

"All right, Evans?" His voice was all too pleasant and mature for one whose fun had just been unceremoniously wrecked by the lovely, fire-haired teen and her hot-tempered friend. But that was hardly any surprise to any one in the room.

Anyone who knew anything about the happenings at Hogwarts school knew that Prongs fancied Evans. With showing off and the constant mussing of hair in her presence, he didn't exactly try to disguise it. And anyone who knew anything, knew Evans didn't return Prongs' affection. It was no secret, that Evans didn't just dislike Prongs; she _loathed_ him.

"Don't you 'all right' me, Potter," Evans snapped in return, stooping to pick up Prongs' wand from the ground. As she straightened, her eyes were visible despite the wild lock that fell between them. The startling green gaze was filled with a fire and spirit that they all knew could be backed up with the brilliant witch's wand. Lily Evans was not a girl to trifle with. "Do you have any idea how many school rules you're breaking?"

The momentarily flash of confusion across Prongs' face showed that he indeed did not. He'd never calculated, because truthfully, he didn't care. After a heartbeat, he shrugged off the question without another thought, his smile returning to its fullest. "Come one, Evans. Lighten up. It's just a bit of fun."

"_Fun_?" Evans spat in disgust. "Breaking curfew. Dueling. The—"

Bellatrix cut in, folding her arms delicately over her chest, ever the picture of icy grace. "I wasn't aware that you had been made prefects."

For the first time the second girl spoke, ever as defiantly and fierily as Evans. "This is a new kind of stupid." With an ornery smirk, the girl jolted her chin into the air. "Even for you, Bella."

Bellatrix's eyes flashed dangerously, her dark gaze filling with rage. She slipped a hand into her pocket, her fist clasping around some sort of object. Everyone knew what she was after and those who still possessed the wand, gripped theirs tightly. Vengeance would only make this situation worse.

Seeing that, Narcissa came to her sister's side. Grasping her elbow, she whispered something into Bellatrix's ear. Whatever Narcissa knew to cool down Bellatrix's, it worked, for after one last glare at the Gryffindor girls, Bellatrix begrudgingly tugged her hand out of her pocket with no wand in her hand. The room let out a breath they didn't realized they had been holding.

Clearly Lily's friend didn't seem to comprehend that she had nearly been hexed or it hadn't been the first time she'd been threatened, for she continued unabated, "You all need to return to your dorms."

There was scuffs throughout the entire room, but it was Padfoot who stepped forward, his eyes challengingly. "Or what, Night?"

Florence Night scowled at Padfoot, the hate for the mischievous rogue clear in her eyes. No one in the room quite understood why Padfoot and Florence hated one another, though all who called themselves friends to either of them was well aware of their mutual loathing. It was obvious in the way they locked eyes with each other, their eyes narrowed as though ready to kill.

It was Lily who answered Padfoot's question, her voice authoritative and deadly serious. "I'll wake up McGonagall."

Both Lily and Florence now pressed their palms onto their hips, their determined features leaving no doubt that they would indeed report them all to their professor. It was the one threat that would cause the Marauders to exchange uneasy gazes. Detention was certainly nothing new to them, but hexing Lucius Malfoy was not worth scrubbing the Great Hall floor on their hands and knees. However, Severus Snape was unmoved and immensely skeptical of their warning, for he saw the snag that the courageous Gryffindor girls had not foreseen.

His voice calculative and cool, Severus spoke for the first time since the disaster began. "And how, I wonder, will you explain to McGonagall why you, yourselves, broke curfew?"

Lily and Florence faltered and red brushed across their cheeks. They were suddenly thankful for the darkness, because it disguised the crimson shame perfectly. The blackness, however, did not extinguish the sound of their timid friend's squeak, trembling in fear at the very idea of trouble. It was apparent that the Gryffindors had been so caught up with the idea of catching Potter in one of his idiotic stunts, that they had temporarily forgotten something they were usual gifted in: commonsense. As respectable and doubtlessly noble as their intentions were, they too had broken school rules. None of them could believe they'd been out thought by the perceptive Slytherin.

But the girls were determined as well. They'd come this far and there was absolutely no sense in turning back. Trouble or not, they were going to take Potter down a few notches. Her face regaining its brave expression, Lily shook off the third girl who was now yanking insistently on her sleeve, mumbling something about going back to the dorm. Both Lily and Florence were regretting bringing her along, but Evelyn had wanted to be a part of the action.

"It doesn't matter," Lily retorted stubbornly. "Detention would be worth it to teach all of you a lesson."

The reaction to this was mixed. Severus still looked cynical, but Peter's bottom lip was beginning to quiver, looking as though he might start pleading for mercy or simply flee. Lucius and the other Slytherins were in a mixture of doubt and apathy; detention was nothing new to them either, though Andromeda wanted to avoid it if at all possible. Padfoot, however, didn't believe they had exhausted all options and that they might still be able to worm their way out of this.

They'd tried to out think the girls, but feminine tenacity had proved stronger than brains. However, there was always that subtle art of flattery, one that, in Padfoot's experience, had never failed to work on a lady. Then again, Padfoot didn't consider Night much of a lady. But it was worth a try. Besides, if that failed, he and the others could always jinx them, something harmless and light that would keep them still until the Marauders could get them back into their common room and fix them with a soothing Memory Charm.

Placing his wand back into his pocket so he would look as friendly and harmless as possible, Padfoot approached carefully, placing a handsome smile on his face and holding his hands up in mock surrender. "Alright. You caught us. You win." Despite his lady-killer grin, there was a patronizing tone to his voice that no one, let alone the girls he was addressing, failed to notice. "Now, let's try and settle this rationally, shall we?"

"_Rationally_?" Florence repeated with an incredulous scuff, her resolve not the least bit tarnished by Padfoot's performance. If anything it was set even firmer. "Since when have you known about rationality?"

Padfoot's confidence died without so much as a flickering spark, murdered by Florence's cold response. It was replaced by anger that danced into his eyes, making him look momentarily dangerous.

Narcissa and Bellatrix threw back their heads and laughed shrilly with no sign of real joy, for those who delighted in the torment of others knew nothing of genuine, innocent happiness. Even the kinder Andromeda chuckled a bit, covering her mouth with her fingers delicately. Lucius smirked cruelly, half amused, half satisfied.

"Girl's got you pegged, Black," Lucius taunted.

Padfoot jaw tightened at the words, his anger thickening. Despite the general consensus to stay lucid, his fist was lurching into his pocket after his wand. He grasped for self-control, but the idea of blasting the smug look off of Malfoy's face was far too enticing. Instead, he only asked, "Where'd you get that theory, Malfoy?"

Lucius expression never for one moment lost its self-assurance. "Simply because you believed that the hopeless Potter ever had any chance of defeating me."

Ah, yes, Lucius was masterful, because he had succeeded in not just insulting one person, but two in one single sentence. Both Padfoot's and Prongs' faces were contorting in rage and, before he could think about what it might led to, Prongs' stalked closer to Lucius, ready to fight in a very Muggle way if it came down to it.

"I had_ every_ chance of defeating you, Lucius! If I had my wand, I'd prove it to you right now!"

"But we don't have our wands," Lucius stated the obvious with a dignified sniff. "Your Mudblood girlfriend saw to that."

"Don't call her a Mudblood!" Prongs hollered back, red-face and inches away from losing the rest of his fragile sanity.

"You don't have to defend me," Lily argued, outraged by another reminder that Prongs liked her and was trying to impress her when all she wanted was for the useless toerag to leave her well enough alone. Which led her to snap at Lucius for encouraging him. "And I'm _not_ his girlfriend."

In less than a second, Prongs was able to turn from a fighter to a lover. "Don't say that, Evans." He twisted his head to blink at her, coming up with a flirtatious smile and switching to a sugary voice in a matter of moments. "You'll hurt my feelings."

"Good!"

Prongs never heard Lily's reply. Seeing Prongs' distraction, Lucius had used it to his advantage. With a well-aimed swing, Lucius fist pummeled into Prongs' jaw, hard enough to cause his legs to buckle. Prongs hit the floor with a painful 'oof'. And just like that, World War III erupted.

Padfoot was quick to come to his friends aid and he drew his wand. With a bark of an incantation and a flash of white light, Lucius was sent flying across the room until he slammed into the wall. The wind left Lucius and he slipped down onto his knees, gasping and panting and wishing to heavens for a wand. All the Slytherins drew their wands, but didn't bring them into action, only holding them ready in case a spell was aimed in their direction. Moony leapt to his feet and ran to intervene, before Sirius could injure the unarmed Lucius anymore. It was quite a task and a wrestling match ensued, Moony trying to grasp the wand from the grip of his much stronger friend. Prongs was back on his feet, but before he could charge at Lucius, Lily and Florence hurried into his path, restraining him as best they could. Evelyn was debating racing back to the dorms and Severus's eyes were flickering from person-to-person, carefully figuring out if the mayhem would last long enough for him to escape. He'd had enough of all this accursed nonsense.

Wormtail had ignored all this, for upon the start of the chaos he had glanced down at the Marauder's Map. With a yelp, he was on his feet and shuffling quickly up behind Prongs, pulling on his sleeve.

"J-James…"

Prongs shoved him away. "Not now, Peter."

He pushed at Evans, who grunted but didn't release his arm. Florence was doing her best to aid Lily, but her mind was so befuddled that all she could do was fumble with the wands, incapable of deciding which one to use. It didn't stop her from giving an empty threat. "Settle down, Potter, or I'll_Stupefy_ you."

Wormtail was fidgeting even worse than ever, glancing apprehensively over his shoulder at the closed door. "But…but, James…"

"Shut _up_, Wormtail!"

Poor Evelyn was beside herself, burying her face in her hands and wondering over and over, _How did I get myself into this?_ Severus, knowing this was not his battle, was edging toward the door. Almost there. Almost free.

"_James!_" By now, Wormtail was so panicked that his voice had become piercing.

Now annoyed beyond reason, Prongs forgot completely about the futile attempt at wrestling with the girls and whirled to face his friend, his eyes crackling fiercely. "WHAT?!"

"Filch is coming."


	2. Set

The room went still.

A look of horror flashed across Prongs face, and he yanked the map from Wormtail's hands. He nearly choked when he saw that Wormtail was indeed absolutely correct. Prongs shoved the map into his cloak pocket, a sense of urgency flowing into his face. It was an expression that the Marauders recognized as their cue to retreat.

"We have to go!" Prongs called at no one in particular. "_Now!_"

Without waiting to see if anyone was going to follow, he sprinted for the opposite door. Moony, Padfoot, and Wormtail were at his heels, not questioning the sincerity of the need to fly. However, the others stared at the Marauders' fading backs, utterly bewildered on how they could possibly foresee Filch's arrival. For all they knew, the caretaker could be on the other side of the castle.

Before they could wonder for long, they heard the jiggle of a doorknob and the creak as the door began to open. They caught a glimpse of the orange glow of lantern light and the silhouette of the odious caretaker, then they too were thundering after the fleeing Marauders. In an instant, the Slytherins had lost their apathy for trouble, and Lily and Florence had lost their resolve to face punishment nobly. They could already taste the glee of Filch as he tried to convince Dumbledore to allow him to hang them up by their thumbs.

The twelve pairs of pounding feet sounded like an earthquake against the stone. There was no point in being quiet now. With all the ruckus they'd been making before, Filch was bound to know they were there and would be hot on their tails not matter what they did. They had to run and they had to run _fast_, hoping that Filch didn't spy their faces.

Prongs reached the door as Filch came through the other one and began moving as quickly as his scuffing feet would let him. Prongs threw the door open, and in a frightened wave, five people tried to go through the door at once. They were temporarily lodged in place, shoulders caught and bodies pressed in a crazy traffic jam. With shoves from people behind them and an urging of "Run! Run! Run!", they fell from the catch and stumbled into a run, flinging themselves down the hall.

Severus was the last one through and he lingered, taking the time to pull the door closed behind him. His calm momentarily lost, his hand fumbled into the robes in search for a pocket that somehow seemed to be missing. It was one of those moments that I'm sure we all know, when time is of the essence and every seconds seems to be slipping away quicker than it actually is. In those moments, when the heart is racing, one never seems able to simply be smooth. Even the most cool of people suddenly become jerky and flustered, more and more so by the second, because they are all to aware of what is about to happen.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, his hand slipped into his pocket and closed around his wand, but before he could pull it from his robes, another wand came into its view and fulfilled the task he had been about to do. With a little flick of the wand and a word of a charm, the lock of the door clicked into place.

Severus blinked, the only sign that he was surprised, and glanced to his side. There stood Lily Evans, winded, but pleased. A smile of satisfaction that seemed out of place was on her face as she pocketed her wand. With the same contentedness, she blew a piece of hair off her face and nodded in relief. "That'll hold him."

In response, the doorknob jerked in vain, the sound wiping the smile from Lily's face and eyes. There was a swear word coming from Filch's filthy mouth as the door remained firmly in place and, then, there was the unmistakable jingle of keys.

"Not for long," Severus mumbled, before turning to flee down the hall in the same direction as the others who were currently rounding a corner.

Lily was right on his heels, her flaming red hair flying behind her. The two caught up with the others easily.

At times like this, the boundaries between friend and foe were shattered, becoming increasingly unimportant. There was no more Slytherin, Marauders, or Gryffindors, simply students running from trouble they had gotten themselves into. In fact, if they ever could be, they were allies, racing from a common enemy: a tyrant king who would love to see them hung for 'treason'--metaphorically speaking, of course.

With the wild gait of a gallop and the panicked state of their mind, it was impossible to comprehend where they were going. The leaders chose turns and corridors at random, with no conscience thought or plan, and the followers pounded after them, not really having any idea why they didn't go their separate ways, but then not much thought goes through the brains of anxious teens.

They soon lost track of where they were and how long they had been running. The only calculations of time was the way their breaths were coming quicker and quicker, their pulses were speeding up all the more, and their lungs were screaming in agony, becoming louder and louder until they could ignore it no more. They all stumbled to a stop, coughing and gasping for precious oxygen. Half of them were doubled over, hands pressed to their bent knees. Lily and Florence leaned their backs against the wall, huffing and puffing and making resolutions to exercise more. The only one who didn't do either of these things was Severus who remained collected, not allowing any of them to see any sign of weakness that they could later use against him. He sucked in deep breaths through his nose and exhaled slowly to avoid hyperventilation.

When her breathing had lessened, but not quite returned to normal, Lily's green eyes could be found taking in their surroundings, curiosity and confusion clashing on her face. The hallway was dark, but the few lit wands that remained out, highlighted a few details. There were no windows as to provide moonlight—or escape—or hardly anything more than the lines of stones. It stretched on a long ways, no tapestries or paintings breaking up the mundane. In truth, with no distinguishing marks, it could have been one of a hundred corridors.

"Where are we?" Lily threw out the question to no one in particular.

"Who cares?" Prongs asked, as he straightened, still taking in great gulps of air. He too looked around quickly, not searching for details but for approaching enemies. "Do you think we lost him?"

In reply, an orange oval of lantern light threw itself around the corner, a shadow framed into the center. Everyone gasped, holding their breath. Their legs felt like they'd been set on fire and their lungs felt stretched in deflated. They could run from Filch no more. It left only one option.

"Hide!"

Frantically, they cast their eyes around them searching for a door! A passage! A crack in the wall! Anything would have made them grateful. It took them nearly fifteen seconds to see the door right beside them. It was large and arched, looking thick and steady and like the perfect hiding space. Of course, there was the fact that every single one of them had failed to notice it before.

"Was that always there?" Lily wondered out loud, but no one seemed to mind the mystery around the door. Filch was rounding the corner at that very moment. Who cared about anything else?!

Prongs flung the door open and this time the group succeeded in not getting trapped. Having learned their lesson in the last doorway, they streamed in one by one, smoothly and proficiently. Lily was the last one to enter and the only one to notice the lettering on the door. She turned and stared at it, the sight wiping away the immediate danger. They were great bold letters, that gleamed eerily in a transparent gold, appearing magical and wondrous. Great letters that read: Friday 13th.

Forgotten was Filch and his authority as Lily's knowledge-loving mind searched to find the reason of why the door would be marked with today's date. However, she was never able to contemplate an answer, for a hand wrapped around her wrist and yanked her into the room, as the door was slammed closed. She was about to jerk her hand away from the touch and tell Prongs to keep his slimy hands off of her. Yet, she stopped because the hand released her before she could and her lips froze because it was not Prongs who had rescued her from her own curiosity, but Severus Snape.

Shaking off the surprise, Lily assisted Severus by drawing her wand and locking this door as well. Severus pressed his ear to the door and beside him, Lily did the same, so close he could smell her hair—_Was that strawberries?_--but he tried to ignore her presence. In unison, they held their breath so they could listen to the noises of Filch on the other side of the door. Through the thick wood, they could hear the pattering of feet and the soft wheezing. They waited, knowing he would pause, knowing the jingle of keys would come, knowing they would be discovered.

But they weren't.

There was no rattle of metal on metal, only a soft swear from Filch's lips as he hummed to himself, "They can't run forever." And then everything—the wheezing, the swearing, and the footsteps—disappeared.

Lily backed away from the door, thick confusion and a touch of apprehension appearing on her face. "He didn't even see the door."

Severus, too, was frowning deeply, but they were the only ones who believed anything odd about their good fortune.

In unison, twelve pairs of eyes turned to study their surroundings. It was a room that none of them had ever seen before, not even the well-traveled Marauders, and that alone was enough to let a rational shiver move down their spines. But what a marvelous place it was!

Just like in the Great Hall the ceiling was bewitched to look like the night sky and they could make out the obsidian clouds and the rare particle of a moonbeam through the thickness. The room was small and perfectly round in circumference. It was bare of furniture and paintings, but the room was anything from plain. The only decoration was extraordinary, for carved on nearly every surface of the wall, from ceiling to floor were sparkling-blue, scrawled words.

Drawn like a dog on a leash, Lily crept forward, her beautiful eyes dancing with awe and her mouth opened in amazement. She approached the wall, all the events that had transpired—first the foiled attempt to bust Prongs and then the heart-pounding marathon to escape from Filch—disappearing from her mind. She stopped before a section of the wall and let her eyes trail from top and bottom as she traced her fingers dreamily across the stone. "What are they?"

Severus was the only other one who came forward, standing a few paces from Lily and gazing at the wall with the same calculation and interest he had in Potions class or Defense Against the Dark Arts. It didn't take long for him to come to a conclusion. "They're names." One of his long fingers came up to touch one of the words as he read it. "Salazar Slytherin."

Growing all the more fascinated, Lily came to Severus' side to see the most famous name scrawled on stone. She tapped a finger on the name nearest it. "Godric Gryffindor." Eyes eternally wide, she traced a fingernail through the grooves of two other names. Rowena Ravenclaw. Helga Hufflepuff. "All the founders are here."

"Fascinating," Prongs mumbled dryly, glaring at the back of Severus' head. There was something Prongs didn't like about seeing Evans and Snape so close together.

Minutes passed as Lily paced slowly about the circumference of the room, reading off the names she recognized from History of Magic. Her face was set in excitement and the exuberance was lit by the light of the wands, highlighting her innocent and childlike joy. Everyone watched, most because of lack of anything to do while passing the time for Filch to get far enough away for them to escape. However, Severus and Moony were just as interested as Lily, and Prongs never got tired of watching Lily.

"What do you think they're here for?" Lily questioned, once again doing nothing but throwing a question out into the open for anyone to claim. She should have been more selective with her inquiry, however, because the last person's opinion she wanted was the first one to give it.

"Probably the same reason Muggle's carve their names in trees," Prongs replied with a carefree shrug. He was getting bored of all this academic stuff. "Who knows and who cares?"

Lily scowled at him, showing him how completely and totally unhelpful he was. She was about to make some bitting retort, when someone gave another answer to her question and this time the retort wasn't completely nonsensical.

"I think it's a record." Severus analyzed the wall with a critical eye, as though weighing and testing his theory. "Of everyone who has been in this room."

It was quite a wonderful idea, if you think about it. To stand where so many famous people, who you have admired and studied and wondered about, had once stood. It was surreal to Lily, but she could hardly bask in the alluring idea, when there were so many questions left unanswered.

She turned to face Severus, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she mused carefully. "But why this room? What's so special about it?"

It didn't seem to occur or bother her that she was having a friendly and intellectual conversation with a Slytherin. Everyone else, however, was not so oblivious, though none more aware than Prongs, and Prongs did _not_ like it. Prongs would have done anything to get Lily's attention off of the greasy-haired git and he made a futile attempt at a joke.

"Perhaps the founders made it for a place for the kids to come and snog. Everyone who does gets there named tallied." Padfoot was the only one who was grinning at his best friend's glib. Prongs elbowed Padfoot in the ribs and smiled knowingly, before turning his attention back to Lily and reaching a hand to his hair. "Hey, Evans, want to get our names up there?"

Lily nose wrinkled, but she was so exhausted and disgusted with him that she didn't even have the energy to turn him down. Instead, she blinked and pointed toward the door, putting as much firmness in her voice as she could. "If you can't speak sensibly, than you can leave."

Frowning at Lily's callousness, Prongs was suddenly very eager to do just that, after all, there was only so much rejection one guy could take. But there was only one snag. "I would, but I don't have my wand." That and Prongs was determined not to leave Severus or anyone alone in this dark, private room with his girl.

Lily hesitated, wanting Prongs gone so direly that the chance of him attacking one of the Slytherins nearly seemed worth it if he would just leave her be. Filch would be long gone by now and perhaps it was time to leave and she supposed she could always come back to the room in the morning to investigate it. They should all be going and they all knew it.

"Fine," Lily said grudgingly, before she stormed over to him, whipping his wand out of her pocket and thrusting it into the palm of his hand. Looking like a scolding Professor McGonagall, Lily held up a finger to Prongs' nose and made an order as though he was an incompetent three-year-old. "But no hexing anyone."

Prongs hid his note of disappointment well, making sure not to let his bottom lip edge out in a pout. He thrust the wand back into his pocket and gave a pure smile. "Happy?"

Lily only glared skeptically.

Lucius was suddenly on top guard, because he had realized that he was the only one in the room without a weapon. As shocking as it may seem, Lucius Malfoy was not well liked and he would not be surprised if he was ambushed by the group as a whole.

Trying not to let his anxiety show, Lucius wrapped his arms protectively over his chest as though to shield himself and demanded, "What about my wand?"

Florence, who still held Lucius's wand, clutched at it possessively.

Seeing her friend's refusal, Lily urged, impatiently, "Give him his wand, Florence."

With one last reluctant glare, Florence slapped the wand down into Lucius's expectant palm, but she held tightly onto her own staring him down, until he too had pressed his wand into his pocket, though he send a begrudging gaze at Prongs, his longing for their duel clear in his eyes.

"Alright, we can go now." Lily spoke like a teacher dismissing a class, and just like a professor, she waited until all the students had made their way to the door, before she dropped her crossed arms and followed.

When they reached the door, Narcissa drew her wand and pointed it at the door knob, whispering the charm to unlock the door. She wrapped her slender fingers around the handle and twisted, but the door knob didn't turn an inch. Her nose wrinkling in irritation, she whirled to face Lily and demanded, "What did you do it it?"

Astonished by Narcissa's vehemence and bewildered by what she could possibly be speaking of, Lily asked, "What do you mean?"

"Some witch you are," Narcissa scuffed cruelly, her lips turning into a sneer. "Can't even lock a door without fouling it up?"

Angry at the unfair accusation, Lily bit back savagely. "It's not my fault you can't work a simple Unlocking Charm."

Narcissa and Bellatrix eyes raised in fury, outraged that a Mudblood would dare insult a noble pureblood. Narcissa was grasping her wand so tightly her knuckles were turning pale and icy. Lily's face was filling with a fatigue and frustration. So would yours, if you were stuck with a group of people who couldn't speak to one another without the threat of someone hexing the other.

"Oh, move over." Lily shoved Narcissa aside so she could reach the door and whipped out her wand. Aiming carefully she cried, authoritatively and powerfully, "_Alohomora_!"

Pocketing her wand again, she turned the doorknob. Everything in commonsense said that the door would now be unlocked and that the door should unlock, but magic didn't necessary play by the rules of rationality, especially the wild magic in this room. The door didn't open; the doorknob didn't even budge. Lily's confidence deflated like a popped balloon, her face falling into an aghast expression. She beginning yanking and pulling at the doorknob in vain as the others watched, as stunned as she.

Finally she gave up and whirled to face the others, exclaiming the obvious in utter horror and exasperation, "It's locked!"

"_Oh, yes, that's right._

_The door is locked._

_And until we play,_

_The way stays blocked."_

Twelve heads jerked around, facing the opposite direction and searching wildly for the source of the mystical, taunting, and laughing voice. At the same time, their eyes locked at the center of the room where there was a steady, magical blue glow, like that which glittered from the words embroidered into the walls. This time, however, it gleamed brilliantly from a clear, crystal bottle. The bottle looked perfectly common, like something that butter-beer would have been drunk out of—well, besides the fact it was illuminated. That and one more thing:

"That was not there a second ago," Moony pointed out, something close to fear in his face; fear that seemed odd when directed toward a bottle. But they all knew perfectly well that it was _not_ a normal bottle. Normal bottles didn't sing.

"_On Friday 13th_

_I open my door_

_And trap some students_

_With a game in store._

_Play by my rules,_

_I'll set you free._

_Refuse, and you'll_

_Stay forever with me._

_Don't look so sad._

_It'll be fun, you'll see._

_Just sit in a circle_

_And we'll begin the glee._

_Just a little kiss_

_And you're sure to win._

_The price isn't much._

_So give me a spin!"_

"What in Merlin's pants did that mean?!" Prongs exclaimed as the bottle fell silent. Nearly all were thinking the same thing.

Evelyn, however, seemed to grasp at least one message of the melody, because she moaned in despair, burying her face in her palms. "We're trapped."

"Thanks," Padfoot said with savage sarcasm. "We caught that."

"Leave her alone, Black," Florence warned through ground teeth, showing off her Gryffindor protectiveness.

Before it could be known if Padfoot would ignore her, follow her command, or begin another round of insane bickering, Lily's mouth fell open. At first, no sound came out, her face frozen in fearful amazement. Finally, her lips moved and she practically choked, "It wants us to play Spin-the-Bottle."

All eyes turned to her, for she was the only one who seemed to be able to decipher the words of the song. They knew the bottle held the key to their freedom, so they were desperate enough to listen to Evans' brainy knowledge. Now if only the words she'd just said didn't sound like a bunch of gibberish.

"Spin-the-what?" Prongs asked, speaking with the confusion of the entire group.

"Spin-the-Bottle," Lily replied, though not with her normal matter-of-fact tone. Instead her words were slow and nearly awkward. The words weren't the only thing that showed telltale signs of embarrassment, for Lily was now anxiously clenching and releasing her fist and, hidden by her bright hair, her ears were turning a splendid hot pink. "It's a…Muggle game."

"I am not playing a Muggle game," Bellatrix immediately refused, flipping her hair indignantly. The other Slytherins showed equal expressions of disgust—with the possible exception of Andromeda, who looked apathetic, and Severus who was watching and listening carefully. This, however, surprised absolutely nobody. They were Slytherins and, for that reason, they were ignored.

Moony was one of them who was curious and interested, the emotions showing an inquisitive look. At last, something they didn't teach in Muggle Studies!

"What kind of game?"he asked nonchalantly. What could possibly be dangerous about a 'harmless' game?

Lily blanched and licked her lips nervously, her mouth suddenly parched so much her tongue was sticking to the roof of her mouth. "It's a—" Her voice squeaked and she cleared her throat. She parted her mouth again and the words came out fast, as though she just wanted to get the torture over with. "It's a kissing game."

They didn't want to believe her, and for a moment, they stared in disbelief, wondering if perhaps she thought that was some sort of incredibly amusing joke. But Lily didn't laugh or taunt out an 'I got you'. Her face didn't crack into a smile, but remained in that same half-embarrassed, half-apprehensive expression. She was not kidding. The group blanched and some made strangled noises, completely horrified by the notion.

Prongs was the only one with the nerve to keep a knowing smile on his face. It wasn't every day that one of his jovial jokes turned out to be right and he simply couldn't let the opportunity pass by. "I knew this room had something to do with snogging."

"Shut up, Potter!" the three or four combined voices told him that this was no time for an 'I told you so'.

"What do you mean a kissing game?" Severus asked suspiciously, upper lip twitching in disfavor.

"Well…" Lily dragged a toe across the floor, wishing she didn't have to explain this. Gone was her fire and bravery, washed away by the terrifying, sickening thought of '_I might have to kiss Potter'_. "You sit in a circle and spin the bottle, and the person it points to when it stops, you have to kiss."

Their expressions went blank, and they blinked at her as though she had been speaking in Greek. However, they understood with crystal clarity, only the idea was too overpoweringly awful that it took a long moment for them to allow it into their mind.

"You mean," Lucius annunciated every word crisply and slowly as he tried to remain calm, "it is completely and totally _random_."

Biting her lip, Lily nodded.

"You mean, I could end up kissing—" Padfoot glanced at all the girls, as though trying to decide which fate could possibly be the worst. Finall,y his eyes settled one of them, his eyes deepening. "Florence?"

Padfoot and Florence's faces distorted into the same odd expression that wasn't quite fathomable. There was something like that familiar distaste the two always shared, but there was a gleam in their eyes that made the emotion behind it something different than repugnance; something deeper.

Smiling sheepishly, Lily nodded again. "About as much chance as anyone else."

The girls looked at the guys and the guys looked at the girls, studying one another in a critical surveillance, their gazes filling with suspicion, dislike, and—maybe—thoughtfulness. But such an innocent peek and wondering could not last wrong, for it hit them all at the same time, and they reacted as was to be expected. After all, they had just been told they might have to snog one of their enemies.

It started with Florence gasping, as the severity of the situation hit home, "Whoa! That's so not going to happen."

"I agree," Bellatrix added on to the coming explosion, though this was the only time she would ever say such words to a Gryffindor. "If you think I'm going to even risk having to snog Pettigrew, you're all mad."

Wormtail jerked at the insult, looking unhappily down at the floor. Seeing this, Padfoot came instantly to his friend's defense. No one was allowed to insult Wormtail, but him! "And who'd want to snog your shriveled lips, Bella?"

And then, with seemingly no logical order of events leading to it, there was complete chaos…for the second time that night. Wormtail and Evelyn watched fearfully on as the groups forged together, picking enemies and allies at random. Poor Moony was lost in the middle, trying his best to escape from the ever nearing bodies. They screamed and swore and made obscene gestures in one senseless roar, ignoring Lily as she tried desperately to get their attention.

Lily Evans was a sight all by herself—not that anyone noticed—for in her attempt to bring everyone's attention back to the situation at hand, before the spells began to fly, she was waving her arms over her head and alternating between whistling piercingly and calling out names. "Hey, calm down!" was a frequent thing to appear on her lips. All her efforts were drowned out by the arguing of the group, which was continuing to escalate in sound until it made her ears ache.

Severus didn't know why he did it, for his actions were as nonsensical to himself as to everyone else in the room. He didn't know whether it was because he, too, saw the importance of remaining calm and speaking of this maturely, or because he felt a touch of sympathy for the persistent, respectable Evans, or because he simply wanted them all to _shut up_? Whatever the reason, he broke the cardinal rule of the Slytherin House. He helped a Gryffindor.

_Pop! Pop! Pop!_

Sparks flew into the air, exploding loudly in bursts of purple fireworks. Startled, the room fell silent as though expecting to fall under attack. Lily whirled toward the noise and found, to her amazement, Severus, with his wand aloft. Everyone was stricken speechless by Severus' uncharacteristic behavior and all they could do was watch as he shoved his wand deep into his pocket and scowled at them darkly with his black, unnerving gaze.

"Shut up, you sniveling whelps," he growled at the majority of the group. "You'll acting like dunderheads…not that that entirely surprises me." He sent Prongs a pointed look.

A sudden crash of fury made Prongs' hand jump into his pocket, after his wand, closing around it. "What did you call me, Snivellus?" He took a step toward Severus who, knowing well what was coming, jerked and sent his hand after his wand.

Florence grasped Prongs arm and whipped him back, glaring at him and warning lowly, "Don't you dare."

It was something quite out of the norm to defend a Slytherin or to admit he might actually have a point. First Severus, then Florence, aiding a nemesis. There must have been something in the room, that twisted about their minds, making them mad—or, in _my_ opinion—rational. For in the space of minutes, not one but two sworn to the pride of the noble houses had gone against the legacy of 'traditional' hating.

Prongs jerked away stubbornly, seething at Severus; he was not about to submit. But Padfoot swaggered over to his best friends' side and hissed into his ear, something that only Lily managed to catch. "We'll get him later, mate."

Just like Narcissa, Padfoot knew how to calm down his best friend. It worked like a clockwork and with a smirk of an already plotting idea, Prongs removed his hand from his pocket, leaving his want alone. His smirk turned into mocked innocence, a halo above the head of someone unsuccessfully hiding their horns. "Alright, Snivellus. If you have to have a girl protect you."

Florence only clamped her mouth shut. She had defended the Slytherin enough. Besides, it wasn't her responsibility to referee their rivalries.

Severus opened his mouth, ready to return the favor of the insult, but such would play right into Prongs hand. It would show he had gotten under his skin and Severus wouldn't give Prongs that leverage. Instead, he nodded towards Lily's direction. "You had something to say, Evans?" The disdain for the Gryffindor that was supposed to show in his voice seemed strangely forced.

Lily blinked at him in astonishment. A Slytherin had helped her—a Mudblood. It was something so unusual she couldn't quite wrap her mind around it. Soon, however, her bewilderment turned into gratitude and she smiled at him as though to say thank you. In return, Severus narrowed his eyes at her, a silent message she read perfectly. _'Don't mention it. __**Ever**__.'_

Lily turned back to the others, who were looking at her with impatience, Narcissa going so far as to tap her foot on the floor to tick off the seconds, as though all of them had somewhere important to go. Lily didn't mind, though, and she took her time choosing her words. One false word and she would lose them. She had to be bold for the Gryffindors and manipulative for the Slytherins or they would simply tune this out. But she _would_ do this; she _would_ find the right words. After all, she was Lily Evans.

That and if she didn't do it, she'd never see daylight again.

"Now I don't want to do this any more than you do." She started with truth. That was always a good place to begin. "But we don't have much of a choice. You heard the bottle. We're trapped in here until we all play."

They were trying not to listen, because they knew what she was saying was right and they hated it.

Seeing as though being kind would never work, Lily folded her arms over her chest, jolted her chin, and plunked herself down on the ground, legs crossed. "Then we best get comfortable, because we'll going to be seeing a lot of one another."

Everyone began eying one another, imagining what it would be like to spend so long of a time around each other. Images came to their minds. Wars and duels every day as revenge for petty arguments. Having to look at each others' faces every minute. Pranks. Annoyance. Chaos. Or worse, after so much time together, they could sort out their differences and become friends. Heck no! Hell was more merciful than all of that!

But they were still hesitant, not wanting to give in because the alternative was nearly as horrible.

Seeing their resistance, Lily smoothly pressed, "We'll just be stuck here together…forever."

It was amazing how fast people could form a circle around a bottle.

Moony, Wormtail, Evelyn, and Severus were the only ones who sat down calmly, though Evelyn was fidgeting nervously at what was to come. Lily scooted across the floor to join them and soon they were sitting in a perfect circumference.

"Alright, Lily," Moony asked conversationally. He was trying not to think not to much about what was happening and his calm tone was an attempt at staying calm. "What are the rules?"

"Well, I've never played it before," Lily answered and only Florence knew the truthfulness of that statement. As the best friend, Florence was privy to certain tidbits of information about Lily's romantic activities or _lack of them_. Lily Evans, one of the prettiest girls at Hogwarts, School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, had never even had her fist kiss. But, of course, she was not about to reveal that and Lily was not about to linger on the fact that when she dreamed about her first kiss—as every girl did—she had not pictured it like this.

"But," she continued, "my friend told me about it. It's really simple. One of the rules is that if a girl spins and it lands on another girl, she kisses the guy nearest her. The same goes for guys spinning other guys."

For as embarrassing as this could have been, Lily almost said it without blushing. Almost. But then again, there weren't many who weren't turning red. Even Bellatrix had a pretty pink highlighting her cheekbones and Severus took that moment to find a speck of dust on the floor incredibly intricate.

Lily cleared her throat, willing her burning ears to cool. "The last rule is that after you've kissed someone, no matter if you haven't spun, you'll to leave the game. Other than that, we just pick who goes first and—" She shrugged lightly, portraying an airiness she could not feel. "—spin."

"Alright then," Moony faked the same ease as Lily, his words chirping slightly as his stomach gave a mighty lurch. "Anyone want to volunteer?"

They all stared at the bottle, as though hoping, praying that someone would seize it and give it a twirl so they didn't have to. When no fingers appeared in their vision they turned their gaze to each other. At random, people began to make suggestions like 'You should do it, Snivellus' or 'Go on, Luci' to which was always generally replied 'After you'. Each suggestions touched someone's already strung-out nerves and tempers were flaring, turning faces red and mouths into sneers, as Mt. St. Ego prepared to blow for the third time.

Sick of the bickering, Florence threw her hands up in surrender. She wanted this done and over with, so she could go to bed and forget this disastrous evening had ever come to be. She moved onto her knees and grasped the bottle, the glass feeling warm and giving off an ecstatic burst of light. With a hearty thrust of her wrist, the bottle was sent dancing around in a tight whirl on its side, magically hovering an inch from the floor.

The arguing stopped and they turned to stare at it, nearly getting dizzy as their eyes followed the movement. It passed Prongs and Wormtail and Lucius, and then did another a complete turn. It was slowing and Florence pressed her eyes closed, reminding herself that it was just a kiss. It wouldn't hurt her. As the sound of the spinning stopped, she peeked her eyes opening, following the neck of the bottle to who it pointed to.


	3. Spin!

"I am not snogging you, Black!"

Padfoot looked just as aghast as she, for his jaw was dropped and his egoistical confidence had completely flooded away as he had watched the bottle rest upon him. He couldn't kiss her! He just couldn't. "The feeling's mutual, Night," he growled back at her fiercely, considering he looked as though he might hurl.

Florence became even more angrier, shockingly so considering all he had done was agree with her. "I'll just spin again," she said through ground teeth. She grasped the bottle and moved to turn it, but it resisted, remaining firmly in place. Florence pulled so hard she groaned in exertion, but it didn't move. After a long moment of trying in vain, she finally gave up, panting from exhaustion. "It won't budge."

A strange look crossed her face as she looked up to meet Padfoot's eyes from across the room, that one expression that was something deeper than disgust. Padfoot looked from her to the bottle, as though unsure how he too should react to all of this, but after a heartbeat, his lips twisted into a smug smile.

"Oy! Looks like you'll have to kiss me after all." Crazily enough, Padfoot no longer seemed unhappy about it.

"I'd rather kiss a snake!" Florence barked in return, not about to give in that easily. Nothing was that simple with the hotheaded Night. She climbed to her feet, fists clenching and feet taking a fighters' stance. "After all, it wouldn't be that much different."

Padfoot's eyes flashed at the verbal assault, and he too was quickly on his feet, storming over until he was nose to nose with her. They looked like two people who were about to fight to the last breath, whether it be with words, wands, or handguns—they'd even stoop to Muggle weapons right about now. They looked like two warriors going to a war that they would not come out of. They looked like an annoyed, bickering, furious, loathsome, and passionate…couple.

"Yeah?" Padfoot yelled in return. "Well…I would rather kiss a…a…" He was having trouble finding words at the moment, but you cannot honestly blame him, because at the moment, his mind was filled with an old and sudden question. _Were her eyes always that blue?_ He mentally shook it off and finished. "A skrut, that's what!"

She shoved him backwards angrily, her voice becoming hostile. "Sirius Black, you are the dumbest, most arrogant jerk, I've ever met!"

Sirius straightened himself, but once again he found it difficult to return the insult. But he was a Marauder; he wouldn't give in to a girl. No matter how pretty she was. "And you're the most blockheaded…" He looked into her eyes and immediately knew he'd made a mistake. He faltered, but only for a brief pause, and he continued, yelling just like before, "Frustrating, beautiful girl I've ever seen."

"'Beautiful'?" Prongs repeated to himself, suddenly becoming fearful that his friend might have been dropped on his head as a baby. He leaned over to Moony, who sat beside him, and whispered, "Is that supposed to be an insult?"

Moony could only shrug for he was as dumbfounded as everyone else in the room by the sudden turn of direction. They all could only watch the two arguing Gryffindors, for as much as they wanted to look away, there was simply no place to look too. Lucius and the Black sisters were wearing looks of disgust and embarrassment and making wishes that they could be anywhere but here. Evelyn was currently hiding her face in her raised knees, desiring dearly to be able to say that she did not know the woman currently making a fool of herself. Lily was thinking slightly the same thing. Wormtail seemed to find the intense scene wonderful, for he was watching with wide eyes, looking as though he might give applause. He may not have understood a thing, but at least he wasn't bored. And Severus—Merlin, that speck of dirt must have been fascinating!

Florence, however, was shamefully unaware of anyone in the room; instead, her tongue was tying itself in a knot. Her mind toyed with the word he'd just said, weighing it carefully, but not daring to believe Padfoot might actually think she was beautiful. No, he was just torturing her. Which made her even angrier.

She shoved him again, and once again, he stumbled backward before righting himself.

"I detest you, Black!"

"Not as much as I detest you, Night!"

"You make me sick!"

Where the words came from, Padfoot couldn't tell you, because he was clueless. All he knew was that he was lost in his passionate anger and her blue, blue eyes, and it just sort of…_slipped out_.

"Do you want to kiss me as badly as I want to kiss you?"

In response, Florence threw her arms around Padfoot's neck and plastered her lips against his. Padfoot returned the kiss greedily and they were soon entangled in a long, deep, and thorough snog, while everyone one else averted their eyes, trying desperately to comprehend what had just happened. What they all didn't realize was that hate is not always that opposite of love, for sometimes when you feel such a poignant emotion as hate it is only because it is a release of a deeper emotion you yourself cannot comprehend. That was why Padfoot and Florence hated one another: because they _fancied_ each other.

When Padfoot and Florence parted, they were breathless but grinning vivaciously at one another. They were wonderfully content, and they suddenly loved Spin-the-Bottle. Glorious game, wasn't it?!

However, all the others were wishing that each turn wasn't as climatic as this one. So much drama had to be bad for the health. Any more of it and staying here forever would begin to look pleasant.

"Alright, Black, Florence," said Lily, after a moment. "You can leave the circle."

They did as they were requested of, still smiling merrily, and unless ten people were hallucinating—and as stressful as the night had been, it was possible—they were holding hands. When Padfoot and Florence were sitting by the wall, much closer than necessary and quietly planning a weekend at Hogsmeade spent together, the group simultaneously filled in the gaps. There was an awkward pause as they once again waited for someone to agree to take their turn. When no one did, Lily took action, patting Evelyn encouragingly on the back.

"You should go."

Evelyn let out a squeak, looking around with wide fearful eyes. The poor girl's nerves were stretched so far that it was a wonder she didn't snap or pass out. She was looking incredibly dizzy, her pupils attempting to roll back into her head, before she would shake her head wildly to be able to see straight again. Evelyn had always been the fainting sort. Knowingly this, Lily shook her gently.

"Just get it over with, Ev," Lily comforted. "You'll be fine."

Swallowing, Evelyn crept forward on her knees and reached her fingers to the bottle. She hesitated and her fingers jerked, but after a little whimper left her lips, she closed her eyes and whipped the bottle into a spin. Pushing her face into her hands, she didn't dare look, but she could hear the rustle of the bottle whirling furiously, could hear it slowing, and then she heard it stop.

She had to look; she had to see who she was about to kiss. So, fearfully, she parted her fingers and peeked between them. Directly across from her, where the bottle was pointing, sat Wormtail, pointing at himself with his mouth gaping like a fish.

Prongs laughed. This game was actually getting fun—well, at least when he forgot that soon he would have to play it too. He gave Wormtail a hearty slap on the back, cheering him on. "Alright! Go snog her."

Wormtail climbed to his feet, wanting nothing more than to transform into a rat and go scurrying away, but he couldn't because if he gave away the Marauders secret, he'd be better off dead. So he moved to the center of the room, waiting apprehensively. Evelyn, however, had suddenly forgotten some simple things, like how to breath and work her feet. For a long time, she could only stay on her knees, her breath coming in great pants. Only after Lily had given her a mighty, but helpful, shove did Evelyn find the strength to climb to her feet and face Wormtail.

Did the world always dip like that?

"Well…" Wormtail began anxiously.

"Well…" Evelyn repeated, teeth chattering.

They both wanted to get it over with, so they both rushed forward, smacking foreheads and bumping noses. Prongs laughed at them, but Lily glared across at him, not seeing anything amusing about their unfortunate friends' discomfort. Seeing this, Prongs shut up immediately.

Wormtail and Evelyn tried again, this time succeeding with the fine art of tilting to the side slightly. It was a quick kiss, nothing more than a peck and what could barely be considered a kiss, but Wormtail's eyes turned as wide as saucers and Evelyn lost the rest of her hold on the world, the blackness that had been tinging her view taking it over completely. She tumbled backwards in a dead faint and would have smacked hard on the ground if Lily hadn't scrambled to her feet to catch her.

Evelyn landed into Lily's chest, knocking out Lily's air with an 'oof'. Inhaling deeply, Lily pulled her friend away from the circle and lowered her gently on the ground. Florence was quickly at Lily's side, taking a handkerchief from her robe pocket and waving it over Evelyn's face.

"Had a bit too much excitement," Florence admitted.

Lily and she shared guilty gazes. They knew well that Evelyn never would have been a part of this if they both had insisted she stay. They'd brought her into this mess and dear, tender Ev had paid a dreadful price.

"Not that brave for a Gryffindor, is she?" Padfoot questioned Florence, though there was no cruel note in his voice in his voice to make in an insult, just an attempt to get Florence's attention back to where he thought it belonged: on him.

Florence gave him a shove and snapped, "Shut up, Sirius." But she was grinning and nearly giggling as she said this, making it clear it was a playful act.

Padfoot smiled at her, giving her his infamous lady-killer grin, the one Florence used to hate but now obviously adored. Lily rolled her eyes, but kept her attention on Evelyn. Evelyn looked peaceful now that she was unconscious, quite like she was simply sleeping.

"Keep fanning her," Lily told Florence, "and she should be alright." She turned her attention back to the game, looking over at all of them. "Who's turn is it?"

There was no one jumping up and down to take a turn. Andromeda and Moony were pretending they hadn't heard, Andromeda returning to the inspection of her nails. Narcissa and Bellatrix glared, daring her to try to make them go next. Prongs and Lucius were scowling at each other, trying to force the other to volunteer. And Severus was still inspecting his little friend, Mr. Dirt Particle.

"You should go, Lily," Florence suggested softly.

Lily hesitated, torn between her duty to the unconscious friend and the need to keep the game going, even if it did mean sacrificing her first kiss in such an unpleasant manner. But, at last, she sighed in agreement, because there was nothing more she could do for Evelyn. "Alright."

Lily pushed to her feet and knelt down beside the bottle. She truly didn't want to do this, for all the boys who were left were not those she wanted to kiss. Moony wouldn't be so bad, she supposed, but Prongs and Lucius would be horrid. And Severus…no, she didn't want to even think about it. She was just going to spin and have it over with it. Taking a deep breath, that was exactly what she did.

Prongs was suddenly attentive. If he ever would have a chance to kiss Lily Evans, it was now, because if that bottle pointed to him, she would have to kiss him. And the bottle _would _to point to him, because he could already taste the sweetness of her lips, could already feel his blood race. Of course, he was the only one. Lucius felt filthy by the very thought of snogging a Mudblood. Moony was pretending this was not happening, and he wasn't the only one, for Severus was—alright, it's official. The boy is obsessed with dirt!

Prongs watched the bottle intently, spinning in a brilliant blue blur, hoping, praying that it would pause on him. It was beginning to slow and slow, passing Lucius and Moony and slowing even more. Yes, yes, it was going to stop on…

"Snivellus! You have to kiss Snivellus?!"

Severus' head jerked up, his face contorting into a unusual expression of surprise so genuine and strong that he looked almost frightened. However, the look quickly disappeared, his face turning back to its calculative, dark self. He glanced at the startled Lily, who was still kneeling, frozen in place with her eyes fixed upon him.

Severus jerked his head up, his ability to ignore the situation wiped away by his unseen horror. His dark eyes looked across the room to meet Lily's surprised gaze, as her lips parted in a soundless, breathless 'oh'. As stunned and as troubled as they were by the event, these emotions could never match those of the speechless, sickened, devastated, and nearly-suicidal Prongs.

"You…you…you…" Prongs mind was so incredibly flustered that he had reduced his vocabulary to precisely one word. It took him a long moment before he'd remembered such simple things as how to move his tongue. It took him a long moment to stop stuttering and gain control. When he spoke again, his voice was a clash between disbelief and anger. "You can't kiss, Snivellus. You'll get grease stains all over your face."

In normal circumstances, Severus would have whipped out his wand and cursed Prongs without hesitation. But this was no average event, for it was not everyday that Severus was forced to kiss a Muggle-born Grffindor. The very unfounded idea was unsettling, but this wasn't a passing muse. It was a starting reality, a vision of the near future. Such was so overwhelming that Prongs almost seemed merciful.

But Lily wasn't so deaf to the words. The shock left her and anger turned her loose features into a heated expression. "Grow up," she snapped at Prongs, unsure why his words enraged her so, but the words spilled out. "Kissing him would be better than kissing you."

Prongs' eyes flared and he sent a hot scowl at Severus, as the Slytherin pushed to his feet.

Severus didn't want to do it and almost every part of his body screamed at him to sit back down, to refuse to comply. Yet, he found himself walking towards Lily, who stood as well, so that they were inches from one another, because deep within he knew that he had no choice. Either kiss Evans or spend eternity with Potter. There was that reason, and perhaps—and _just _perhaps—there was a minuscule part of him that didn't quite find snogging Lily unpleasant.

No, that couldn't be it. Severus shook off the idea as Lily looked up at him expectantly. He told himself that he hated her and everything about her. He told himself he hated her innocent, genuine smile that showed her heart. He told himself he hated her fiery temperament and stubborn nature. He told himself he hated the way the soft wand-light set her red hair ablaze. He told himself he hated those green eyes, and he almost convinced himself of it all, too. But, why, oh, why did she have to smell so good?!

"Let's get it over with then," Severus said gruffly, though the grudging in his voice nearly seemed forced.

Lily nodded in agreement, closed her eyes and waited.

With a huff, Severus lowered his head, but paused, his lips so close to hers he could feel her sweet-smelling breath on his mouth. He took a deep breath, mustered all the courage the brave boy possessed and covered her mouth with his.

Her lips were soft and tasted like honey and pumpkin juice, and the contact turned his pulse up to an uncomfortable notch. He wondered if she could feel his heart thudding as easily as he could feel hers.

Unbeknown to the kissers, Prongs was fighting with every part of his being to keep from murdering Severus right then and there. His teeth and fists were clenched so tightly it was painful, but he didn't seem to notice. Watching the kiss was torture! For the first time in all his days, Prongs found himself locked in his greatest nightmare! The nightmare of being jealous of that greasy-haired git.

Padfoot had the wisdom to come to Prongs side, knowing he might have to prevent Prongs from ending up in Azkaban.

The kiss should have ended right there, for it only required a few seconds before parting for the two to do their part. But a few seconds past, and a few seconds more, and to Prongs' everlasting dismay, the two did not part. In fact, they were getting closer. Lily wrapped her fingers around Severus's collar as though to hinder his escape—though that was the last thing he wanted—and deepened the kiss. Severus tensed, surprised, but not displeased, before relinquishing, wrapping his arms about Lily's waist, and pulling her near. They were no more Slytherin and Gryffindor; no more Mudblood and Half-blood; no more greasy-haired git and fire-haired belle; only two people who immensely enjoyed snogging each other.

Prongs was on his feet, his hand going after his wand, and Padfoot was forced to grasp his friend's arms, nearly putting him in a half-Nelson to hold him back. Prongs struggled and called threats that the victim didn't seem to hear. "I'll kill him," he growled fiercely. "They were supposed to kiss. Not neck."

"Easy, mate," Padfoot tried to coax, though he too felt a desire to throw up. It wasn't for protection Severus' health that Padfoot held back Prongs, but for his friend. As tempting as the idea of letting Prongs have his way was, one of the professors would surely notice Severus missing.

When the two parted, Lily was lightheaded and Severus was breathing shallowly. More for show, he glared at her, though to Lily, it seemed fake and meaningless, with no real fury to it. Without saying anything to one another, they went to their separate places outside of the circle, keeping as far away from Prongs as was humanly possible in such a small room. Lily's beaming smile was something less than discrete.

Prongs face was still red, though he had stopped fighting with Padfoot. His entire body shook with rage and Severus was doing a wonderful job of pretending not to notice Prongs' murderous gaze while Severus' fist was wrapped around his wand, fully expecting an attack.

"Remus, my friend," Padfoot hissed down to Moony, trying to sound nonchalant, though it didn't quite work, considering he was still holding tight to his friend. "I'd suggest you spin, before Prongs really goes mental."

Moony held back for a moment, but with a glance at his friends, he nodded reluctantly. It was his turn.

He crept forward and, forcing himself not to think deeply on his actions, he spun the bottle. It whizzed about merrily, glowing and letting off bursts of light, before it began to reduce in speed. After a few heartbeats, it stopped, pointing its ebbing neck toward none other than Andromeda.

There was the usual amount of staring and pausing, before Moony and Andromeda climbed to their feet. Andromeda knew how to fake bravery and that sophisticated air so common to the Blacks. It was what was expected of her, and she used that act now as she climbed to her feet, tilting her chin gracefully and squaring her shoulder, ready to kiss her cousin's friend. Moony himself felt a surge of courage. He was a Marauder, after all, and he'd learned that if he couldn't beat them, join them, and have a good time doing it too.

The kiss went off flawlessly, though the feelings of it were awkward, something like snogging a stranger full on the mouth. They made it quick, doing their duty and escaping the circle as collected as they could force themselves to be.

Once the kiss was done, Prongs seemed to relax, though hated Severus more than ever now. Sending one last glare at Severus, Prongs sat back down.

Then it was the other Black sisters turn to look at one another and debated upon who's turn it was to spin.

Narcissa volunteered the other first, using a sweet smile. "You do it, Bella. You're the eldest."

Bellatrix was not quite as foolish as that and she twisted the statement without even a pause. "No, I insist, dear Cissy. After you."

Their benevolent smiles turned into sneers, but neither one caved as they shot back not-so-sisterly retorts. It was a good thing Lucius decided to become suddenly fed up with the foolishness of women, because the tenacity of a Slytherin Black could have lasted for a very long time.

"This is ridiculous." Throwing his hands up in exasperation, Lucuis made a scoffing sound and stormed towards the bottle. "I'll spin, if you two nags will just shut up."

Just like that, the Black sisters were best friends again, reinstating their friendship by joining to scowl menacingly at Lucius as he jerked the bottle in a pirouette. Round and around it twirled, before abating to a halt, pointing to no other than the despicable woman he hated. Narcissa Black.

Bellatrix, who always found enjoyment in the suffering of others, could feel sympathy for her favorite sister, but still a smile curved her lips. At least it wasn't her. "After you, Cissy."

With equal begrudging, Narcissa and Lucius stomped up to each other, knowing extremely well what was expected. Lucius wrinkled up his nose. Narcissa wrinkled up her nose. And then they kissed.

All displeasure seemed to disappear from both faces, and the kiss lasted much longer than would have been considered necessary, as they delved into the knew and unconsidered territory of something other than dislike for one another. Bellatrix's disapproval and frown went deeper and deeper until her forehead let out a single imperfect crease, not liking how this development might be headed. But a single thought ended her displeasure. At least, Lucius was pureblood.

Finally, Lucius and Narcissa parted. Lucius let out a blood-cooling exhale and then looked at Narcissa as though he had never seen her before. His eyes were judgmental as his thinking of Narcissa changed. No longer a vexing Black, but a prospect. She was of a good family, pureblood, respectable, and a pleasing kisser. In the world of pureblood marriage, there wasn't much more than that.

Narcissa opened her eyes and looked up with him, her icy blues meeting his cool grays. A seductive smile touched her ruby lips, curving them ever so slightly as she whispered so no one else could hear, "Did you enjoy that?"

To his own surprise, he found himself admitting to her what he already knew with a slight nod and ardent smile.

"Good," she said and then her face hardened, her fake smile disappearing in a flash as she looked at him malignantly. "Because it'll never happen again!" She whirled about so quickly that the golden tips of her flying hair brushed against his nose.

Lucius confident smile fell, and he looked almost devastated. He quickly regained control, glowering furiously at Narcissa's back as she moved to the far wall. What a fool he had been! But, no, it wasn't his fault—at least, so he told himself. It was hers—the filthy temptress.

"Women," he growled lowly, before blustering towards the opposite side of the room. Lucius Malfoy didn't bow to any woman. She may want nothing to do with him, but Lucius would have his way. That was the day, Lucius swore that one day he'd marry her. Because he always had his way.

"Right." Lily surveyed what was left with the game while Florence was helping Evelyn to sit up, as the poor girl was only just beginning to regain consciousness. "Now that just leaves—" Lily stopped. This wasn't going to be good.

And that was the conclusion everyone came to when they realized who was left to kiss one another. Bellatrix and Prongs turned in unison, meeting each other eyes. Prongs face contorted and Bellatrix's dark eyes flashed with obvious refusal.

"Oh, no," Bellatrix whispered stoically. "That is not going to happen."

Prongs eyes were narrowing as he wondered if it was possible that this was all just a nightmare or someone's sick idea of a joke. If it was a first, he wanted to wake up right now, and if it was the latter, the prankster had better say his prayers. But joke, nightmare, or bloody hallucination, he was _not_ kissing Bellatrix Black. The idea was so completely horrendous that he had to laugh to keep from crying. And laugh he did, the sound coming out maniacal and deranged.

"Sure. Right. This game has been fun, but this is going too far."

There was anger from nearly all of the ten who had gone before him. Only the Marauders and the woozy Evelyn didn't feel a flash of rage. It was Lily who spoke first.

"Game? Fun?" she snipped at him, once again looking so much like an enraged McGonagall Prongs nearly recoiled as she stormed over to him. "This isn't a game, because games don't have consequences of being locked forever in a room if some block-headed prat decides not to play. It wasn't _fun_ when Evelyn passed out!"

Prongs was on her feet, facing Lily. There was no way he was backing down from her now. He'd taken too much. Whether he'd planned to marry her or not, with ruining his duel, treating him like scum, turning him down countless times tonight alone, and, not to mention, that snog with Severus, this girl had pushed him too far.

"No, Evans, I'm not doing it and that's final."

Lily's face was almost matched her hair and her hand raised halfway as though to slug him, but she resisted, only because they needed him conscious. "You arrogant, conceited, deranged, scruffy-look twit! You're going to kiss her, if I have to make you do it at wand point!"

There were nods of agreement from Florence, Severus, and Lucius and, all together, they, along with Lily, pointed their wands meaningfully at Prongs.

Prongs looked from one wand tip to another, his struggle clear in his mind. Finally he gave in, not because he was threatened, but because it was too late to turn back now, and the thought of a nice warm bed and the opportunity to forget this ever happened was too desirous for him to continue to refuse. "Alright." Prongs threw up his hands in surrender. "I'll do it!"

"Good for you, James," Lily said mockingly, placing her wand back into her robe pocket, before turning away.

"Wait a minute." Bellatrix climbed to her feet, her nose once again wrinkled in graceful distaste. "I certainly never agreed to kiss him."

"Bella!" Narcissa set her feet and did the thing she rarely did. She stood up to her sister. She would never have done it, but as far as she could see, Bellatrix's pigheadedness was the only thing standing between Narcissa and her freedom. Big sister or not, no one was keeping Narcissa from that desired possession. "I did not snog Lucius Malfoy for you to turn into a cowardly pillock!"

Bellatrix's eyebrows raised. She was about to glare are her sister, to tell her she should respect her elders. She was about to scream at her, order her never to call her a coward. She was about to storm over and slap her across her face, to show her her place. But she stopped, because Bellatrix knew, for once, her little sister was correct. She had no choice. As nightmarish as it was, she was going to have to kiss Potter.

"Fine," she huffed, crossing her arms protectively over her chest and turning toward Potter. "Just do it and be done!"

They all watched him, wandering if Prongs would be brave enough to do it or selfish enough to trap them in here forever. As frightening as it was, all their fates counted with Prongs.

Glaring hatefully, Prongs locked his fists at his side, stooped a bit and, just like that, James Potter kissed Bellatrix Black.

They were together only moments before Prongs reeled back with a yelp of pain, pressing his fingers to his bleeding bottom lip, hiding the teeth marks well. The astonished expression on his face turned to fury as he blinked at Bellatrix and his sore lip twisted into an impregnable frown. "You bit me!"

Bellatrix's face contorted in a mixture of disgust and temper, flipping her hair over her shoulder, and appearing like a four-year-old about to through a tantrum. "That's for using your tongue, Potter!"

Nauseated by the very idea, Prongs looked as though he had been slapped across the face—or more so, for perhaps a girl striking him is not quite stunning—and his jaw became unhinged, gapping like a guppy. The accusation was unfair, and he unwrapped his tangled tongue in an attempt to force a denial. "But I didn't…"

The contemptuous Bellatrix was so outraged and sickened that she suddenly lost all graceful reserve and pride in her capability as a witch and reacted in a very Muggle-like way. Lifting her knee and stepping forward, she slammed her foot down onto Prongs' toes. With a howl of agony, Prongs grasped for his injured foot . Bellatrix gave a satisfied huff and waltzed away, looking beautifully conceited and perfectly ready to wipe the taste of Prongs' lips from her mouth.

Prongs made a show of hopping and cussing and making solemn promises of revenge. Lily's lips curled back in a wide smile as she giggled, not bothering to hide it. Florence, too, was giggling, even as she helped Evelyn to her feet. Lucius and Narcissa were laughing mockingly and Padfoot glared at Malfoy, ordering him to shut up. Even Severus' smirk held more amusement than usual.

Finally Prongs set his foot back on the ground, though he winced slightly, wondering how he would explain a broken toe to the school nurse in the morning. Limbing gingerly, he took a couple of awkward steps toward the door.

"Would someone try the dang door?!" he growled disgustedly, fed up with everything about this darn night.

Andromeda reached it first, eagerly unlocking it with a quick charm and twisting it. With a pleasing breeze of fresh air and the most wonderful sound of squeaky hinges, the door swung open. Padfoot cheered, but was cut off by the familiar laughing voice of the bottle. They swiveled about, watching and listening as the bottle faded from sight. Blue glow and all disappeared, leaving only the sound of its voice.

"Your name on my wall.

Memory more priceless than rhyme.

Come visit me again.

If you'll looking for a good time!"

In unison, they turned to the right, staring at the section of the wall that was blank of name. With an illuminating, sizzling blue shine, new words were scrawled mystically into the wall. From their places they could read the flowing, cursive writing. All their names were carved for eternity into the same section of wall, the only place they would ever be united. It was a steady reminder that this dreadful night had truly happened. But that knowledge would only be extremely embarrassing if ever it escaped this room. They all seemed to make that conclusion, for they looked at each other searchingly, suspiciously, before Prongs spoke.

"This _never_ leaves this room. Tell no one."

They all readily agreed. No one was ever going to find out from them this room existed or who they had been forced to snog. They would not be the laughing stock of the school.

They turned to leave, Moony currently helping Florence by walking on Evelyn's opposite side, steadying her in her grogginess. One of Florence's hands was wrapped around Evelyn's shoulder and the other was slipped comfortably in Padfoot's hand. Narcissa and Bellatrix were side-by-side, Andromeda springing quickly after them. No one failed to notice the way Lucius followed close as well, his eyes fixed on Narcissa's back like a stalker's on his prey. Prongs ushered Wormtail out, trying to make a smooth exit while limping gingerly. Severus and Lily were the last one to leave, not looking at one another, but Lily paused, causing him to linger to.

Standing in the doorway, Lily looked back to where her sparkling name was written deep into the wall, along with so many other names. Wild magic had created this room and people throughout history had played by its rules, including the Founders. It seemed completely humorous to think about and a thought twirled her lips upward.

Surprised that anyone could walk away from such a night with a smile upon their face, Severus' raised a single eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest cynically. "What are you smiling about?"

Lily was unmoved by his tone. It didn't seem so callous anymore. Tough and hiding-his-heart and completely Slytherin, but that was just the way he was. And that was okay. It really was.

"I was just thinking about the Founders." She giggled and Severus' other eyebrow raised as he wondered what was so funny about that. "What if this was where Godric and Salazar stopped being friends? All because of a girl?"

Severus blinked at her humor, but if you looked closely in the darkness, you could a lip twitching with the desire to curve upright.

Lily continued, half-joking, but there was something in her voice that was pointed, as though she knew there was a deeper interpretation to her words. "It would make all of this Slytherin vs. Gryffindor feuding ridiculous, wouldn't it?"

Severus didn't speak, didn't blink, didn't nod, only stood perfectly still.

Lily exited the room and closed it behind them, before Lily sent him that innocent smile, the one so full of love and life. "Good night, Severus." Without waiting for a reply, she turned and chased after her friends. There was a dancing happiness in her steps, for, despite the strangeness, it hadn't been that bad of an adventure.

Severus didn't let her see his returned smile. His Slytherin pride wouldn't allow it. After watching her disappear behind the corner, he turned away, and with an easy stride, he turned the opposite direction.

Was the rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor ridiculous? Maybe, just maybe. At least it seemed so tonight, in the minds of a few. If even for a few moments, Evans and Snape almost believed it.

It was not the only effect that the night had on the lives of all those involved. Padfoot and Florence dated for many months to come and never before had you seen a more perfect couple—after all, the best of love starts in the oddest of ways. But, eventually, their paths set them apart; no more companions, but friends to the end.

Lucius pursued Narcissa from then on, not for anything as innocent as fancying or love, but because of that resolution. She would be his. And, eventually, she was. Eventually, she allowed herself to love him. For, as she thought, at least he was pureblood.

There wasn't a time when Evelyn and Wormtail crossed each others' path that they both didn't turn a spectacular shade of red, and from that day on, Andromeda and Moony pretended that the other didn't exist.

Bellatrix and Prongs hated one another even more after that. They couldn't meet without the threat of homicide lingering in the air. But she wasn't the only one Prongs detested. Ever since, he could never look at Severus without remembering that night. He set out on the goal of making Severus' life miserable and of making Lily his girl. Whether or not he ever succeeded in becoming a decent man, he succeeded in doing the latter.

But, even as she fell in love with James Potter, Lily Evans never forgot her first kiss. And for that matter, neither did Severus Snape.

But one thing was for sure, none of them forgot that night, that room, or that demonic bottle. And none of them went wandering the halls of Hogwarts on Friday, the Thirteenth ever, ever again.


End file.
